


Self Control

by britishngay



Series: Come over [5]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Guess what - they're drunk again woo, So...be warned, This is a smut warning, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 10:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20851616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishngay/pseuds/britishngay
Summary: Heather Chandler dancing with some random guy while staring directly at you.It's dangerous, anyone could see what she was staring at, although honestly, everyone's drunk so much they might not be able to see anything.And, fuck, is it hot.





	Self Control

They're at a party.

You've got a strong idea that you're going to die. Not from the copious amount of alcohol you've drunk, or from any weed you've smoked, but from Heather Chandler dancing with some random guy while staring directly at you.

It's dangerous, anyone could see what she was staring at, although honestly, everyone's drunk so much they might not be able to see anything.

And, fuck, is it hot.

You wish you're that guy, feeling Heather against you, hands on her hips, whispering what you're going to do to her later.

You can feel your body heating up every second from the way Heather is looking at you. You know exactly what she wants. Bass and synth cuts through the air.

_You take my self, you take my self control_

And she really does take it doesn't she? You can't say no.

It's not all that weird that you've gotten used to being called to Heather Chandler's room in the early hours of the morning. Their frequency is increasing. It used to just be a Friday once in a while, then it became almost every week, then it became whenever they had last period together and every Friday. Basically, you've been sleeping together a lot, and you're starting to get a bit confused - why chose you when Heather has the entire football team to chose from? You're pretty sure you know the answer, but you want to hear it from Heather's lips.

_I, I live among the creatures of the night_

You know that feeling far too well, so many nights waking home alone, the smell of her surrounding you.

You've become addicted to each other and they still never talked about it. The one time you tried, whatever softness Heather had been feeling quickly changed and the Head Bitch kicked you out of bed. At this point, you were used to staying over, you no longer had to awkwardly climb out her window and down the squeaky pipe. Needless to say, you struggled getting home that morning. Their routine had shifted to being slightly less 'fuck and duck' to 'fuck and stay over, but if we wake up cuddling (even though Heather is always the one to initiate cuddling) then I'm blaming you'. It's a lot to think about for you to think about in senior year of High school so you don't.

_Oh, the night, is my world_

You ignore the sex-confused-feelings and ignore the new ones that you are trying really hard to pretend don't exist - even though it's hard when Heather falls asleep and in English and she sits on the complete opposite side of the class and you want to brush her hair out of her face. You take a sip of your drink and wince at the bitterness.

_In the day, nothing matters, _

_It's the night, that time flatters_

Heather grinds particularly hard on the guy and you see his hand grab harder and bite his lip and you're fingers go white from holding your cup too hard. Heather looks smug at your jealousy from her place on the dance floor. Before you know it, you're walking across the dance floor and grabbing her. This is the first time you've fully initiated anything and fucking hell are you glad that the alcohol has given you courage like on the night of the Remington party. She doesn't even look suprised when you tug her from the guy and say you're going out for a smoke, he looks pissed but Heather gives him a look and his jaw clamps shut. You drag her through the sea of bodies in Ram's house.

Which, jesus christ, did he invite the entirety of Ohio?

There are few people in his garden, most likely due to the November weather, where it's suddenly cold enough to seep into your bones and your joints take hours to work properly. There's one couple who are making out by Ram's barbeque and two girls talking very loudly about how much they hate this town and blah blah blah; with one look at Heather they all rush inside. The song's moved on to something a bit more upbeat and you can breathe slightly easier at the knowledge that most people will be dancing and not looking out of Ram's glass backdoor. You pull her to the small alley by the barbeque and push her against the wall.

"Jealous much?" She says triumphiantly, eyes barely blue anymore and her breath coming out in a clear plume of grey. Her lips are caught in a half smile and her words are slurring in the same way that your mind is. She really shouldn't look so hot when she's smug.

"Was this the only reason you were dancing with him?"

"You think too highly of yourself."

Heather pulls you in for a kiss and feel her smile against your lips. Her hands come up to your head and neck, her acrylics scratching the back of your neck, digging into your hair. She pulls slightly on it, causing you to groan slightly. Your tongues meet, she pulls you impossibly closer. One of her hands crawling under your blazer, you can feel her cold hands over your shirt. You keep your hands on her hands, griping tightly, one of your thumbs brushing against her skin between where her skirt and shirt meet. After a while time become jelly and you don't even realise but you've pushed your leg in between Heather's. Her head falls against the brick, you take advantage of the free skin and kiss hard enough for Heather to feel it, but not hard enough to leave a mark.

You don't know how long you stayed there, Heather breathlessly grinding against your thigh, occasionally moaning quietly so only you can hear. She speeds up and grabs your hips, pushing you up against her - harder and quicker. You can feel her breathing getting shallower and her noises getting louder. She's close, you can tell. This is the closest you've felt to being a normal teenager for months, dry humping against the linebacker's house, just like every other teenager, not Veronica Sawyer, the girl who is sleeping with the most popular girl in school and is currently trying to bury feelings for said popular girl even though she is not entirely sure what they are. You pull back to see her mouth hanging open and her eyebrows furrowed impossibly tightly. She close, you can feel it in the way she's grabbing you.

She's about to cum when you hear some heels on Ram's patio and Heather pushes you away, quickly grabbing a cigarette and lighting it.

You just face toward the end of the alley, hoping whoever it is that they don't notice how quick you're breathing.

You feel Heather's waxy lipstick smudged all over your lips. You feel cold. Away from her warmth, her lips, her hands digging into you.

You don't hear the conversation, only the pounding in your head. You get brought out of your reverie by hearing your name.

"Yeah, I'm heading back with Veronica. She's not feeling to good." She trying her best to keep her voice steady but you can hear it waver slightly. You lean over and dry heave slightly to help with Heather's story.

"Fine by me, as long as she doesn't puke anywhere near my jeep." The unmistakable mood killer of Duke's voice hits you.

"Aw, that's too bad, hope you feel better soon Ronnie! See you on Monday!" Mac's voice echoes down the alley and you give back a shaky thumbs up.

As soon as the sound of heels disappear, you turn and see Heather leaning haphazardly against the wall, breathing deeply with her eyes closed. You can tell that she's angry and horny, which is a hot combo from your experience, but one that should be handled with caution. You take the cigarette from her, she let's you with no hesitation. You inhale and of course she likes Lucky Strikes, she probably stole them out of her Dad's desk when she was fifteen and he probably never noticed. Family not noticing Heather seemed to be a common theme in the few glimses of her life that you've been granted. Lucky strikes taste like shit but you need a cigarette more than your taste buds so you battle through it, eventually crushing the butt of it under your heels. Heather must've heard the crunch because when you look at her, she's staring at you with such intensity you want to take a step back. She rubs her lipstick off your lips with a blank expression on her face.

"Let's go."

She drags you back through the dilapidated party. You must've been gone for at least an hour with the way the house is looking. You're not sure that either of you should be driving in your condition but you can't think of anything else but Heather Chandler. In your bed. Naked.

You're kind of autopilot in her car back to yours, you're stick caught up in how you were feeling ten minutes ago, completely consumed by Heather. She's driving faster than she should, especially after all they've drunk; but you can't bring yourself to care.

You're liquid courage is starting to make you apathetic.

You guess.

Suddenly you're in front of your house and Heather's hands are clutched white against the steering wheel and she's staring at you like _that_ again. She turns off the engine while holding your eye and climbs over the clutch to straddle you. Fuck, she'd only been on top of you last Wednesday but you'd missed it. The way her thighs feel against your palms. Her hands in your hair, simultaneously tugging at your roots and pulling you closer. Her lips sliding against yours quickly, biting and tugging, pulling noises from you. She pulls away from you, your lips following her but she pushes you back into the car seat.

"Veronica."

You nod.

"This isn't like when we're fucking and I'm about to cum and you stop. I had started cumming when they showed up so, as much as I love your lips - fuck me."

You nod again.

Your hands push aside her underwear to find her soaking and whimper at the feeling. You push two fingers inside her and her walls clench around you. Heather's hips start rolling in time with your thrusts. And before long she's shuddering against you, you're drowning her moans with your mouth and her hands and grabbing and pulling whatever parts of you that she can grab. With one choked moan her walls clench around your fingers again and she goes boneless. You can feel her smile and breath puffing against your collarbones.

The windows steamed up during all of this, leaving the air sticky, you can feel some of your hair clinging to the back of your neck with her fingers still wrapped some strands. Heather leans back and kisses you again, softly and slightly sloppily.

"Wanna head inside?" You say quietly, she smiles slightly and clambers back to the driver's seat. It's hard to get into your house quietly when Heather is whispering in your ear about what she wants to do to you and you are both very drunk and none of your keys work, but you finally make it in and up your creaky-ass stairs. As soon as the door closes behind Heather she gives you another look that makes you melt and a smile that is evil and should not be attractive, but dear Lord it is.

You're going to be in for a fun night.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed xx
> 
> Do you like the new Pov? Please tell me in the comments what you like and didn't like - it'll defo help.
> 
> The song for is 'Self Control' by Laura Branigan.


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